


No Trespassing

by Liralen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Claiming, Jealousy, M/M, Prostitution, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-19
Updated: 2011-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liralen/pseuds/Liralen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>J2 hire a prostitute for a threesome and discover some jealousy issues. For the <a href="http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/94194.html">Working Hard for the Money</a> fic meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Trespassing

Jensen's going to break the guy's fingers. Every. Single. One.

It's the only thought he can focus on, looping through his mind like the ticker on a news channel, and it's starting to drive him a little crazy, because this? Is supposed to be hot. It's supposed to be fun. For fuck's sake, it was HIS SUGGESTION, and, okay, maybe he didn't really think Jared would actually say _yes_ , but he had, and now there's a stranger in his hotel room with his hands all over Jared's chest, and aren't threesomes supposed to be _hot?_

This isn't hot. He wants to drag the guy off of Jared, throw his shoes at him and tell him to get the fuck gone. But he can't, because he's a goddamn idiot who runs his mouth and can't back down and he _paid the guy money_ to come back here with them, and if he kicks him out now he'll lose and look stupid and Jared will never, ever let him live it down.

"You gonna stay all the way over there the whole night?"

The voice jerks him from his thoughts, and Jensen looks up to find the guy studying him over Jared's shoulder, chest pressed tight to Jared's back and hands moving under his shirt. Jared's eyes are closed, head tipped forward so that the soft fringe of his hair half-hides his face, and something soft in Jensen aches to reach out and push it away.

Instead, he smirks—pure Dean Winchester—and draws his shoulders up and back in a slow roll that sends his jacket sliding to the floor. He twitches against the urge to pick it up and put it away properly, but he doesn't think the guy notices, his gaze glued to the strip of bare skin above Jensen's waistband where his shirt hiked up at the shrug.

"Just enjoying the view," Jensen replies with a smile that feels crooked and poorly formed. He licks his lips, and the guy's eyes—shark-eyes, a brown so dark and depthless they're black—lift and fix on Jensen's mouth, an answering smile curling the stranger's lips.

"It's a nice one," agrees the guy—the fucking _hooker_ , Jensen reminds himself, heat flaring in his stomach, equal parts want and shame. One of the guy's hands slides free of Jared's shirt, skims down his stomach to press between his thighs, palming the hard line of Jared's cock through his jeans, and Jared's mouth parts on a groan. "That what you like? To watch? You wanna watch your friend fuck me with this big hard dick? Make it really pretty for you, worth every penny."

Jensen feels his lips pull back to show a snarl; feels the hot thrum of blood in his head and cock, pounding with adrenaline and something feral. Something that wants to bite deep into the soft angle of Jared's throat, leave the imprint of his teeth like a barcode, like an autograph, like a fucking warning sign: PRIVATE PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING. VIOLATERS WILL BE SHOT.

A small, rational corner of Jensen's mind is yelling at him to calm down, to walk away, to not smash his fist into the man's face until things split and shatter and bleed, because that's very illegal and the police will come and he will go to jail, and then they'll find out that Jensen sort of hired of a prostitute and he will go to jail some more. The press will find out and the show will get canceled and Jared will break up with him and move back to L.A., and Jensen won't be able to go after him and apologize because he'll be stuck in a prison in Vancouver getting politely raped by a giant Canadian lumberjack serial killer every night, and it will all be because of a stupid fucking _dare_.

"No," Jensen says, voice full of gravel, low and dark enough to drag Jared's head up and his eyes open, so that both men are watching him now. He licks his lips again, taking a step closer and then another, until he can feel the heat rising from Jared's skin, hear the soft click of the stranger's throat when he swallows. "No, that's not what I want."

He can feel Jared's gaze on him like a touch, but Jensen doesn't look at him as he reaches for the stranger, curling a hand around the back of his neck and dragging him into a kiss.

It's strange at first, the shape of a mouth that isn't Jared's against his. It throws him a little, makes him clumsy with nerves until he stops over thinking and just goes with it, presses the guy's mouth open and licks into soft heat. He tastes like the cinnamon gum he'd chewed and snapped on the drive back to the hotel; an undercurrent of dark rum, all warmth and spice. Jensen tips his head without thought, finding a better angle and pressing closer; catches the man's full bottom lip between his teeth and pulls, a long, wet suck.

He hears the guy give up a quiet groan, and then a sound he doesn't recognize for a moment—low and rough, rumbling, and he realizes it's coming from Jared the second before he identifies it as a fucking _growl_.

Lips find his neck, and teeth; Jensen hisses, tearing out of the kiss. He shoves a thigh between Jared's, pushing hard; but Jared's still trapped between them, caught against the stranger's chest, and the motion rocks him back into the other man, makes them both moan. The guy moves a hand to Jared's hip, holding him steady as he grinds against Jared's ass, and something snaps inside Jensen like a glowstick; shatters his control and lights up every nerve with need.

He jerks back enough to see Jared's eyes; lidded and hungry, pupils blown huge and dark. He brings both hands up to Jared's face, cupping his jaw, pressing his thumbs hard into the hinges. The pressure's painful before Jared finally opens on a cry and Jensen crushes their mouths together, demanding, the sweep of his tongue possessive, tasting Jared deeply.

"Mine," he growls, so low it's in Dean's range. He bites Jared's lip, sucks until it's swollen and pink. He reaches down to where the stranger's still holding onto Jared's hip, pries the hand away and replaces it with his own, clutching hard enough to bruise. "Mine, you're _mine_."

Jared shudders, has to swallow twice to get his voice to work. "Was your idea," he says weakly.

"Yeah, and now it's _not_ anymore. Never again. You're mine and no one else fucking touches you, you got that?"

"Yeah," Jared whispers, and he looks so goddamned _relieved_ that it knocks Jensen's breath out. He calls himself ten kinds of fool, wants to kick his own ass for getting them into this in the first place, but Jared's kissing him again, eating at his mouth, and Jensen figures there's plenty of time to beat himself up tomorrow. Right now he really kind of needs to fuck Jared into next week.

"I hate to ruin the moment," the stranger says, and Jensen startles badly, realizing he forgot all about the guy not two feet away, "but if you guys have changed your mind, you really need to drop me back off downtown. My time ain't _free_ , y'know."

"Sit down and shut up," Jensen growls, and he'll probably feel bad later for being such a dick, but right now he just _does not care._ "I'll pay you what we agreed earlier just to watch and then call you a cab. Fair?"

Jensen glances over at the guy, watches him blink once and then smile, and it takes him from good-looking to goddamn gorgeous.

"More than," the guy agrees, getting comfortable in the room's only chair, but Jensen isn't paying him any attention anymore. He's busy stripping Jared's shirt off, manhandling him onto the bed; dragging his jeans down and kissing across his perfect golden skin. He's lost in the lines of Jared's body, the mile-long legs sprawled open for him, the tan expanse of Jared's shoulders and chest, begging to be tasted, to be marked.

He gets undressed in record time, and he doesn't care that he probably looks like an idiot doing it, because nothing feels as good or right as this: Jared's body naked and open under his; Jared's mouth against his mouth; Jared's ass hot around his slick fingers. Nothing sounds as good as Jared gasping his name, begging for more, begging Jensen to fuck him, fill him, _own_ him.

 _Mine mine mine_ Jensen thinks as he slides into tight heat; knows he's saying it out loud when Jared groans like he's been shot, clenches around Jensen's cock and promises raggedly, "Yours. God, Jen, I'm all yours."

And that's, fuck, that's more than Jensen can take. It hurts him, how bad he wants Jared, how bad he _needs_ him; hurts so he can barely breathe, and when he starts to shake he doesn't know if he's going to cry or come or just fucking explode. He feels frantic, possessed, needs to fuck Jared harder, needs to feel him come apart. He hitches Jared's legs higher, digs his fingers into Jared's hips, and he'll have bruises tomorrow, perfect blue and purple smudge marks and Jensen will lick over every one.

"Don't let me hurt you," Jensen pleads, even as he pounds Jared harder, gets his knees under him and snaps his hips into every thrust. "Jared, please, I can't—"

"You won't," Jared promises, shaking his head. His hair is tangled and damp, stuck to his forehead with sweat, hand a blur on his cock, his eyes wild, and he's never been more gorgeous.

"You won't, you can't, Jen," he says again; and then sharper, high and desperate, "Jen, aw fuck, _Jen_ \---" and bows his back, crying out and coming all over his stomach.

Jensen has about three seconds to enjoy the sight before his brain shuts down, world turning grey and he's coming; coming like he's dying, sharp, startled sounds dragged out of him with every jerk of his hips. He's light-headed by the time his vision clears, dazed and content and halfway to asleep, but he doesn't miss it when Jared kisses his temple and whispers,

" _Mine,_ "

and though he'd never say it aloud, he thinks, _yours_ , and it feels right.


End file.
